Silence
by Redsiren
Summary: The light was gone from his eyes, and the smile Danny was so accustomed to seeing had vanished as well.
1. Discovery

**Title:** Silence

**Pairing:** Don/OMC, Don/Danny

**Rating:** FRM

**Summary: **The light was gone from his eyes, and the smile Danny was so accustomed to seeing had vanished as well.

**Author's Notes:** This came to me while watching clips of Eddie on L&O SVU. I've never been abused, so everything in terms of the emotional effects of this comes from Internet research. There will be two, maybe three parts to this, so stay tuned.

Don hadn't been himself. In the five years Danny had known his fellow detective, he had never witnessed the taller man behaving the way he had been lately. The light was gone from his eyes, and the smile Danny was so accustomed to seeing had vanished as well. Now, whenever he spoke to anyone in the lab, it was with an almost cold tone to his voice, his eyes never meeting the other person's.

If Danny was to be truly honest with himself, the behaviour had come on gradually, over the last six months. Slowly, Don had shut himself off from anything remotely social within the NYPD. He didn't go to Sullivan's anymore, didn't attend the benefits that sprouted up here and there for charity, and—most telling of all—had stopped playing hoops with Danny every Saturday.

Danny bit his lip as he watched the object of his thoughts walk into the lab, head down and fingers of left hand adjusting the cuff of his right sleeve. For a brief moment, Danny thought he'd seen a different shade of white underneath Flack's cuff, but dismissed it with a shake of his head.

"Hey." He greeted when Don was close enough.

"What'chu got for me?" Danny tried not to frown at the brush off, but was unable to keep from adding the moment to his mental file of suspicion.

"DNA from your vic came back as one Erwin Vommer. Got a hit in CODIS for a domestic battery charge five years ago." There was no mistaking the flinch that Danny saw jolt through Don at the last part of his answer.

"Y'alright, man? You haven't been lookin' so good lately." Danny asked, looking up and trying not to gasp at what met his eyes.

An angry, red gash sliced through the skin of Don's forehead, only partially hidden by his hair, sutures holding the flesh together.

"I'm fine. Just got a lot of work to do. Thanks for the DNA results." And with that, Don was walking back out of the office, just as quickly as he'd come.

Danny could only shake his head, forcefully pushing the voice in his head to the background. There was no way what he was seeing could be what he was thinking it was. Don would never let that sort of thing happen.

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"What did I tell you, huh? Tell me, Don, what exactly did I say before letting you go out?"

The wall was cold and sticking to his face because of the tears that defiantly fell from his blue eyes. He was sure that if he were pressed any harder against the drywall, one of two things would happen; either it would give way to his face, or the stud would break his nose. Neither was an option he was looking forward to, but he knew that if he wanted to be able to sleep tonight, he had to find a way out of his current interrogation.

"You said, 'go to the bodega, buy milk and bread and come right back. You have fifteen minutes'." Don answered, his breathing much too fast for his own good. Behind him, he could feel the bones in his wrist getting twisted to near breaking. He'd have to wear a splint for a while.

"And what part of that exactly, didn't you understand?" The voice sent cold shots of fear down his spine, but Don simply shook his head, needing to explain himself before things got out of control.

"I bumped into Lindsay. She had new information about a case I'm working on. She wouldn't shut up." On some very base level he hated the newest CSI for having been outside that particular bodega at that particular moment and needing to tell him about something related to work on his day off; he knew it wasn't her fault though, and could only let the guilt rest on her head for a few moments.

"You could've walked away, Don. Could've told her a million different lies to make it back here in time. Instead, you chose to stay and talk and do god-knows-what else. Do you realize what your being late has done? Without the milk, we can't have sauce on the pasta. And without the bread? Well, I don't even have to explain that one. I'm pretty sure even someone with a high school diploma can figure it out."

The punch stung Don's face and, as he'd predicted, put his face through the drywall. He choked hard as his knees buckled under his weight, the force of the kick to his scrotum sending stars into his vision. The drywall gave way under the weight of his head and he tumbled to the floor, crumpled into a fetal position as more kicks were solidly delivered to his spine, thighs and shins. He barely felt himself being rolled to his back, but the next punch that connected with his eye socket sent alarms through his body.

After a few more kicks to the gut and the scars that rested beneath his shirt, Don was finally released from the grip of his boyfriend and left on the living room floor to pick himself up.

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"What the hell happened, Don?" Mac's voice was full of alarm and concern for his younger colleague as the two sat in his office with the blinds drawn.

"I got tuned up last night on the way home. Probably some gang initiation thing. Its no big deal." Shrugging his shoulders hurt more than it should of, and Don had to concentrate on the paperweight on Mac's desk to keep the feeling from showing on his face.

"No big deal? You're joking, right Don? I can't even see your arms and I know there are probably bruises all over your body. We can catch these guys. Let Adam and Hawkes do a workup on you and we'll go from there."

"Mac, it's okay, really. Just some kids; I'm fine." His fingertips were numbing with the lack of blood that flowed to them and as he got up, he made sure his back was to Mac before allowing the silent scream of pain to release from his mouth.

He'd take desk duty today.

Danny's eyes couldn't get bigger if someone had pried them open as he followed Don's movements throughout the locker room. They were both changing to go home and it took mere seconds for the splotches of red and purple to catch Danny's attention.

"Jesus, Don, what happened?"

"NOTHING HAPPENED!! CHRIST, CAN"T YOU PEOPLE LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE?!"

Danny visibly jumped at the volume of Don's voice and the words that spewed from his lips, but Flack's actions only served to cement his theories as he removed his undershirt and quickly tried to get on a new one. Knowing he only had one chance to confront him, Danny quickly reached for Don's clean shirt, taking it out of his grasp and throwing it over his shoulder.

He wasn't ready for Don's reaction and it hit him like a 3-ton truck going full speed. Instead of getting angry, the homicide detective first flinched then cowered against the lockers as if waiting for Danny to hit him. It was enough to make the Messer's lower lip tremble. Never before had he seen Don so broken—both physically and emotionally.

"Don, who did this to you?" He whispered, knowing damn well that neither of them would be leaving the room until he got the truth.

"Don't hit me! Please, don't hit me!" Don's words cut straight through Danny's heart as in front of him, he watched Don dissolve into a pile of tears and bruised skin, his body still curled up defensively.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, Flack. I'm just trying to help…" Danny chose his words carefully as he approached Don, intent on hugging him as best he could.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Don's sudden outcry was enough to have Danny backing away, knowing that the slight crack in Flack's wall had been built up again and that he'd get nowhere no matter how he tried to get in.


	2. Tragedy

"Hey Adam, you got a minute

"Hey Adam, you got a minute?" It had been three weeks since his attempted confrontation of Don in the locker room, and the scene hadn't left Danny's mind once.

"Yeah, sure, what's up?" Adam pulled away from the microscope to look up at Danny, eager to hear whatever it was Danny needed to ask, since he assumed it would have something to do with the double homicide case they were working on.

"Remember the case with the chick that stole from all the high-end stores? The one you said had a bully in her life?"

"Sure, yeah, what about her?" Adam's brow furrowed in curiosity, not understanding how this had anything to do with the case.

"Are there any other signs that someone has…has 'a bully' in their lives?"

Adam bit his lip, his frown deepening. The homicide case was pretty clear-cut in terms of murders. They were just having a hell of a time trying to pin down the assassin.

"They um…they close in on themselves. Don't talk to anyone unless it's absolutely necessary. They shy away from sudden movements, like you saw on the security tape. Most of the time, they're in denial about what's going on. They'll tell you everything's fine even though they've got a black eye and a shoddy explanation.

"Oh, and they make excuses for the person doing the bullying. Like, they'll say 'it was my fault for talking back' or something like that."

Danny simply nodded, checking off most of Adam's descriptions in his head. Had he been a balloon, he would've deflated right then and there. There was no mistaking Don's behaviour now.

"How does…how does this have anything to do with the Grant murders?" Adam asked after a prolonged silence, scratching his head.

"It doesn't. It's…it's someone I know. Thanks, Adam. I appreciate all the info." Danny nodded as he turned on his heel to leave the lab.

"Hey Danny?" Adam called to him just as he was about to exit.

"Yeah?"

"Don't give up on him, okay?" There was a soft smile of understanding on Adam's face as he nodded at Danny.

He merely nodded back, knowing that if anyone could instantly see what was happening to Don, it'd be Adam; the kid had lived through it himself.

That night, Danny could think of nothing else but of how to get Don to open up to him. His beer warmed in his hand, untouched save for the first sip as he sat in front of the TV, not really watching but needing some other noise besides the voice in his head screaming at him to do _something_.

Images of Flack being abused suddenly sprouted in Danny's overactive imagination; answers to the black eye, the gash in his forehead and the sickening discoloration of his back. Pictures of Flack struggling to re-dress himself in the locker room, keeping himself as covered as possible even in a place where partial nudity was common.

The illustrations blurred Danny's vision to the point where the late night talk show became a bubble of melting colours. Blinking rapidly, Danny inhaled as the tears fell down his cheeks. He'd never told anyone, but he'd always cared deeply for Flack; deeper than most male platonic relationships allotted for. If he were to be honest, he could easily say he loved Don and not just as a friend. The thought of loosing him was enough to make fresh tears fall, and for a few minutes Danny gave into his sadness and cried for what had happened and what he would never tell Don.

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Don's sobs reverberated around the room, his arms and legs bent and out in front of him, trying to block as many of the blows as possible; it did little good as the snap of his radius blasted through his ears. His cry of pain went unsuppressed as human instinct took over and he cradled the mangled arm in his left hand.

Saying stop had ceased to work a long time ago and now Don took the beatings with only his tears and cries of pain as witness, his body only betraying his injuries the next day. Seth was really letting him have it tonight, all because Don had forgotten to call him to say he'd be home late.

As his vision blurred between black and colour, Don could only think of how it'd gotten to this point. His memory struggled to recall the first time Seth had hit him and besides the recent wailings he couldn't remember when it had actually started.

Don's eyes snapped open as he felt Seth's hands go around his throat, the chokehold locking him to the ground and making escape impossible. This was it, he was going to die gasping for air under his boyfriend's hands. He thought of the next day, when his friends would be called in—most likely due to him not showing for work—and how they would find him; face up, clad in only sweat pants and barely recognizable.

His last thoughts as the world went dark around him were of the one person who had tried to reach out to him; Danny.

The sound of his phone ringing brought Danny slowly out of sleep, his upper half turning to look bleary-eyed at the clock; 3:14am. He frowned slightly as he remembered that he wasn't on call that night, nor was he on the secondary list. Whoever the caller was, they better have a damn good reason to be ringing him up this early.

"Messer." His voice, sleep-coated and rough, made the person on the other end pause briefly before speaking.

"Danny, it's Stella. You need to come to Angel of Mercy right now. Don's been injured."

He had to fight to keep the phone in his hand long enough to tell Stella he'd be there as soon as he could. Scrambling, he grabbed the first pair of pants he found and swiped his keys, badge and coat from the front entrance. Stella didn't sound good when she relayed the news, and if his previous experiences with injuries and hospitals were any indication, Don couldn't be in a good spot at the moment.

Danny made it to the hospital in record time, having flashed his badge at the cabby the moment he got in. Eyes darting around the main entrance, it didn't take him long to find Stella, Lindsay, Mac and Hawkes standing by the emergency entrance.

"What happened?" He asked, breathless from the adrenaline that had been pumping through him since receiving the call.

"His neighbours called it in. When the cops broke through the door, they found him lying in his own blood and not breathing. We're still trying to find his roommate who, as of right now, is the prime suspect, judging by the signs of strangulation the officers noticed." Mac informed him, his frown giving away how disturbed he was.

Danny felt all the blood rush from his head, managing to take a seat before he passed out completely. Head between his legs, he took several deep breaths to try and calm the anger that was slowly threatening to boil inside him.

"Detective Taylor? He's out of surgery. You'll be able to see him as soon as we get him settled in the ICU."

ICU. The bastard had put him in the ICU. Danny excused himself quietly and made sure he had rounded the corner before breaking into a dead run towards the men's room, his stomach giving him only a few seconds' respite before evacuating its contents.


	3. Anguish

Everyone had gone home for the night, and after seeing Danny's death-grip on Don's hand, Mac had resigned in leaving him to stand watch. Now, sitting by Don's bed, all Danny could do was ask the 'what if's. What if he had stood his ground that day in the locker room? What if he had tried again a few days later? What if he had asked Adam to broach the subject with him? What if he had told Don how he really felt?

The questions plagued him as night turned to morning and the sun came blaring through the cheap blinds that covered the window. Noticing the light well after ten, Danny finally relinquished his hold on Don's hand and went over to the glass to close the blinds. Pins and Needles flared up both legs and the movement seemed to renew the blurriness of his vision as he put one shaking hand on the wall to support himself.

Sliding to the floor, it took very little to let the tears run their course, Danny sobbing hard into his hands that rested on his knees. He wanted to take Don's injuries onto himself; would do anything to switch places with him, convinced that if anybody deserved the beating of a lifetime, it was him.

He barely acknowledged it when his left hand curled into a fist and slammed down against the linoleum flooring, the movement repeated with more and more force each time it was done. Seething, Danny cried through clenched teeth, needing to feel at least a fraction of the pain he could only imagine Don having been through. By the time his hand finally came to a rest, the beginnings of a large bruise could already be seen, and he was fairly certain he'd broken at least one bone. It was only fair, after all.

The look of shock on Adam's face as he entered Don's room wasn't missed by Danny, but by that time he had stopped caring about everyone but Flack.

"Jesus Christ, Danny. What did you do?" Adam asked, rushing over to his friend's side to assess the damage. He might not have a medical degree like Hawkes, but he had nursed enough of his own injuries to see something serious when he saw it.

"He doesn't deserve this. He doesn't—" Danny's words were cut short by a violent sob, Adam unable to do anything but hold his friend, hoping the crying would subside long enough to have a nurse bandage his inflamed hand.

"They have Seth in custody, Danny. Their processing the apartment right now and running comparison DNA to the epithelials we collected from Don. We're gonna get him and put him away for a long time. It's attempted murder of an officer at LEAST." Adam explained softly, getting only a few nods from Danny to show he was listening.

"What kind of workup did they do on Flack?" Danny asked a while later, his tears having subsided enough to let him speak.

"Full. Rape kit—" Adam clamped a hand over his mouth immediately, knowing he'd said too much.

"He-he was raped?" Danny could barely get the words out as the bile rose up to his throat. Adam grimaced, closed his eyes and simply nodded.

"Oh god…"

Forgetting his injured hand, Danny scrambled up and ran for the bathroom in Flack's room, throwing up pure bile this time, the fluid burning his throat raw. He didn't have the strength to move, and was grateful for Adam's hand hooking under his shoulders to help him up.

When he finally trusted his own feet, Danny's eyes happen upon the mirror in front of the sink. To his surprise, Adam was crying softly behind him. Forgetting his own anguish for a moment, Danny turned and enveloped the younger man into his arms, knowing how the situation must be rehashing old and painful memories for the lab tech.

"I'm okay. I'm okay, Danny, really. Just hate seeing you two this way. You guys are friends and, well, I feel helpless." Adam laughed nervously, never having been one to get all weepy in front of one of his fellow CSI's. Danny merely nodded, holding Adam's head in his hands and looking him over to make sure he was telling the truth.

His thoughts flew back to Don as he heard rustling coming from the direction of the detective's bed. Don's eyes were open and he looked panicked to say the least. Knowing that he might try and pull out his breathing tube if he wasn't calmed down, Danny immediately took his hand and forced him to look at him.

"It's okay, Don. You're all right, man. Adam, get the nurse!" Adam nodded quickly, bolting from the room to the nurses' station.

Confusion flooded Don's face as he looked pleadingly at Danny for help. His hands gripped Messer's tightly, almost as though trying to get him to remove the tube himself.

"They're coming, Don. You'll be free of that thing in no time." Danny ignored the tears burning his eyes; tears of elation and sympathy that Don had pulled through but was still stuck in his current situation.

Half an hour went by as the medical team tested Don's ability to breath on his own, finally deeming it safe to take him off the ventilator. The gagging and coughing was enough to have Danny turning away, not wanting to see his friend going through more torture, even though this time it was for his own good.

"There we are. Much better, huh?" The nurse asked Don when Danny finally pivoted back around, finding his friend drinking water slowly from a straw while nodding in agreement with the nurse.

"I'll leave you two alone for a bit. If he begins to feel any pain, just press the call button and I'll come give him some meds." Danny nodded appreciatively at the nurse, still not trusting his own vocal chords.

"Wh-what happened?" Don finally asked, having to clear his throat mid-sentence, his words hoarse.

"From what we know right now, Seth assaulted and choked you. We found you at around 2am and you had to be taken in to surgery for internal bleeding." Danny was surprised at how diplomatic he sounded about the whole ordeal, having been sure that his explanation would have been laced with expletives and talk of putting Seth away in the 'bitch' block of Rikers.

He tightened his grip on Flack's hand as the taller man began to cry softly. His cast-covered right arm came up to try and hide his eyes, but the bruises on his face permitted very little in the way of touch.

"It was my fault. I-I forgot to call and say I'd be home late. I was working on the Milton case and the paperwork was taking forever. I lost track of time. Please, let him go, Danny. It wasn't his fault, it was mine. I fucked up. Please, you gotta let him go. He's gonna be really mad." The fear in Flack's voice was unmistakable and it made Danny's stomach turn.

"Don, look at me and pay attention 'cause I'm only gonna say this once. NONE of what that bastard did to you is your fault. Ya hear me? None of it. He had no right to lay a hand on you, not once. What he did is sick and inexcusable and if I have my way, he'll never have a chance to so much as look at you ever again."

Danny refrained from telling Don he knew that Seth had inflicted his past injuries as well, knowing it would do no good at that very moment. Don could only cry, a slight nod to Danny's words being the only sign that he had listened.

"I'm sorry. S-o sorry." Don tried to speak, but broken sobs and whimpers made it difficult.

Danny's anger at Don's explanation quickly softened and he let tears fall from his own eyes as he sat on the edge of Flack's bed and gingerly pulled the other man into a hug. Don's head fell to Danny's shoulder and it was all he could do not to turn his head and kiss the top of the detective's head. Instead, he resigned to lightly smoothing a hand over Don's back, cautious of the ragged bruises beneath the flimsy paper gown.

"No one's gonna hurt you ever again, Don. I promise you that." The words were said with a resolve that neither man had articulated to the other before and with a strong sob, Don did the only thing he had the strength to do; he mouthed 'thank you' into Danny's shoulder.


	4. Ire

A few days later, Don was pronounced well enough to go home—on the condition that someone stay with him 24/7 in case there were any problems for those first few days back. Most of the team had come and gone at various points throughout his half-week stay, but the one constant was Danny. Forgetting his own needs, Danny made it a point to never be more than two steps away from Flack at any given moment, a loyalty that didn't go unnoticed; at Don's request to keep his family in the dark about the whole thing, Mac had 'assigned' Danny as Flack's guardian of sorts, charging him with keeping an eye on the taller detective until such a time as Danny felt he was well enough to be on his own again.

The drive out was silent; neither Mac, Danny or Don speaking and the radio firmly turned off. With all the noise in the three men's heads the silence, however brief, was a welcome change.

Mac had no trouble finding Danny's apartment, and it wasn't until the car was parked in the alley next to the building that Flack noticed where they were, a frown instantly crossing his face. He shirked Danny's many attempts at helping him out of the car, and even tried to make a grab for his hockey bag—currently filled with his clothes and other belongings—until Mac firmly put an end to the foolish attempt.

Flack remained mute on the elevator ride up to Danny's floor, the frown increasing the moment Mac was out of sight. It wasn't until Danny had locked the door to the apartment behind them that Don spoke.

"So you're gonna be my babysitter for how long?" The words were chipped off solid ice, Flack's glare at Danny matching each syllable.

"I'm not ya babysitter and you know it, Flack. Don't even play that game. You almost got killed. There's no way in hell me or anyone else is gonna let you go anywhere near your place until it's been processed, cleaned and that scumbag put in Rikers for life." Don was taken aback at Danny's bluntness, but slowly nodded, knowing deep down that Danny was right.

"Sorry." Flack murmured, hobbling to the couch and sitting down as slowly as possible. It didn't take long for Danny to follow suite, his body turned towards Don with an expectant look on his face.

"What?"

"Nothin'. Just makin' sure you're alright." Taking off his glasses, Danny rubbed his face, the inky blackness behind his closed eyes bringing up visions of blood and intubations and the scared stiff look Don had the minute he woke up. The images made Danny jolt and quickly open his eyes, his expression once again blank so as to not startle his friend.

"I'm fine, Mess. I'll let you know if anything starts to hurt, I promise." Don's words were quite, his eyes staring straight at Danny for the first time in what seemed like eons. Danny merely nodded, getting up and moving towards the kitchen.

"What do ya want for dinner?" He called from the partition that separated the kitchen from the dining room before ducking his head into the fridge to see what he had.

"Whatever you're havin'. You know I ain't picky." Don called back, his eyes moving towards where Danny's voice had gone. Danny smiled; at least that part of Flack had stayed the same.

Fifteen minutes later, the pizza had been delivered and they both sat in front of a rerun of Saturday's game, chewing silently, eyes focused straight ahead.

"What'd the doctor say about showerin'?" Danny asked as he finished his last piece, eyes turning towards Don.

"Don't slip." Danny chuckled silently, glad to see Flack had retained some sense of humour about the whole ordeal, despite the fact that he had a sneaking suspicion that it was all an elaborate cover-up.

"I'm serious though. Is it Spongeville for you or what?" They both knew the topic was an uncomfortable one, although both had different reasons for seeing it as such.

"Nah. Just said to keep the cast from gettin' wet and to watch the shower spray on the stitches. I think I can manage." Danny nodded, standing up to put the pizza box with the rest of his recycling, unable to help following Flack with his eyes as he got up and began making his way to Danny's linen closet.

"Bang on the wall if you need anything, aight?" Danny said just loud enough for Flack to hear as he moved into the bathroom. Don nodded, a small smile on his face before closing the door behind him.

The minute the sound of running water filtered through the apartment, all the dark thoughts he'd worked so hard to push to the back of his head came out in full force. Danny slumped onto the couch, hands in his hair as he tried his hardest to keep every negative thought about the past few months from invading his mind. His breathing got harder as he worked to try and dissolve the pictures that kept shuffling through his mind's eye like a filofax, his mental exertion only causing the images to become slower and more graphic. Sitting up didn't help as it merely made the screen on which the gore show played all the darker and more vivid.

He wanted to scream, but knew that if he did, Don would probably try and rush out of the shower and somehow end up in worse shape than he already was. So instead, he resorted to throwing his glasses across the room, not caring whether the lenses and frame broke; just wanting to have some form of release that didn't include breaking down; he'd done enough of that at the hospital and his still-bruised hand was all the evidence anyone needed to prove it.

A good twenty minutes after he went in, Don finally came out, the towel wrapped lower than usual on his hips so as to not rub against the stitches in his side. His eyes instantly moved to the couch, Flack's eyes widening as he saw Danny hunched over, hands on his face, elbows resting on knees and back rising and falling much too quickly.

"Danno, you okay over there, buddy?" Danny's head shot up like a snapped elastic, a brief smile crossing his face as he nodded too quickly to be truthful.

"Just…just restin' my eyes." Flack nodded, chewing his lower lip before holding up a large square package.

"D'ya mind helpin' me change the dressing on this thing?" He turned just enough so that Danny could see the long line of black sutures down his side, the skin around it still swollen and inflamed. Taking a deep breath, Danny nodded and got up, following Flack into his bedroom.

"You took your meds at six, so you should be good to go 'till ten." Danny began rambling as he went into the bathroom to grab a pair of gloves, tape and scissors, having changed enough dressings on himself to know what a single bacteria could do to a fresh wound.

"And your painkillers should last you at least two more hours if you're lucky, but I still gotta know if it becomes intolerable 'cause then I have to call Hawkes to see if I can give you any more." He kneeled next to where Flack sat on the bed, and making sure there was enough light in the room began to slowly re-dress the stitches.

He refused to look anywhere but straight at his work, Danny afraid that if he did the rest of Don's battered body would make seeing difficult. Pressing the last piece of tape gently onto Flack's skin, Danny got up quickly, taking everything back to the bathroom before Don could utter a word.

With the door shut safely behind him, Danny made sure to turn on the shower before sliding against the door and sobbing mutely into the palm covering his mouth. He shouldn't have to be changing dressings at all, not to mention on someone as strong as Flack; someone who'd always been the one looking after _him._ Danny shook his head, refusing to believe that the man presently seated so quiet and battered on his bed was the same man he'd known for almost six years. It took a few minutes, but Danny's tears subsided enough to let him stand and peel off the clothes he'd been wearing for the past three days.

The water in the shower wouldn't go hot enough to burn off the film of anger that seemed to coat every inch of Danny's skin as he scrubbed harder than necessary to try and get both his feelings and the images of Flack in the hospital out of his mind. Even turning the shower to its hardest setting did little to make Danny feel anything other than pure ire for the so-called boyfriend that had done this to Flack.

His eyes came to rest on the razor that hung from the tiled wall of his shower; when he bothered to shave off his five o'clock shadow, it was better to kill two birds with one stone, and so the razor made it's home next to the shampoo caddy as opposed to the toothbrush. It would be so easy. He'd popped blades out of razors before; all he had to do was push the right way and out would come the tool that could release all his pain. Danny's hand stood frozen in mid-air as he thought out his intended actions.

Finally, with a growl, he dropped his hand, not wanting to have to explain why he'd cut himself when he hadn't even shaved. He knew that Flack would notice, even if no one else did; he was just that sort of guy. The water stopped flowing over his short crop as he took several deep breathes, Danny needing his body to be calm when he walked out; the last thing he wanted was to have Don on edge after all that had happened.

Danny's feet came to an abrupt halt halfway into his room; Flack hadn't moved an inch. He sat exactly as Danny had left him, hands at his side and towel tucked just low enough to avoid the gauze. Don's eyes stared straight ahead, no emotion detectable in his face as he concentrated on whatever it was that had grabbed his attention.

"Don, what's the matter?" Danny asked, tentatively stepping closer to the other man.

"I can't get dressed. Hurts too much to bend over." The words were shaking as they left his mouth, and when Danny looked closer, he could see tears brewing in those blue eyes; tears of shame and disgust.

Forgetting his own clothes, Danny immediately moved to Don's side, grabbing the sweat pants he had managed to grab out of the bag and loosening the drawstring on them.

"Stand up and I'll help you get them up high enough for you to reach, aight?" Don nodded, his face defiant despite following Danny's instructions.

Together they managed to get each of Don's legs into the sweats, Danny giving Flack the dignity he so clearly needed and looking away as he slowly moved the waistband up his calves and thighs, stopping when his hands met Don's. Both men nodded brusquely as Flack took up where Danny had left off, using his left hand to bring the material high enough to rest just below the gauze.

"Thanks." It was whisper, but Danny heard it loud and clear, his eyes still not moving to look at Don as he nodded and went in search of his own boxers.

"You good for painkillers?" Danny asked after having gotten dressed, his eyebrows rising in question as he looked at Flack sitting on the bed again.

"I'm good, yeah, thanks." It was all the confirmation Danny needed as he headed back towards the door of his bedroom, fully intending on giving Flack his bed for as long as he needed it.

"Wh-where ya going?" The voice was meek and the question almost silent, but it was enough to have Danny spinning on his heel to face Don again.

"The couch." He answered, shrugging, assuming Don would have figured out he would be getting the bed.

"You're joking right? This is _your_ place, Messer."

"Exactly. And if I feel like someone needs a proper bed, it's my place to give it to 'em." Don opened his mouth to say something but closed it just as quickly, his chin coming down to rest on his sternum instead.

Danny's eyes widened as he saw Don's shoulder begin to shake with the same force they had that day in the locker room. It didn't take long for him to be back at Flack's side, sitting next to him on the bed this time and trying ineffectively to see his friend's face.

"An-and what if that-that someone won't be able to-sleep alone?" Flack sounded very much like a lost little boy, his eyes barely lifting to meet Danny's.

"Then all that someone's gotta do is ask." Danny replied softly before tucking his lower lip firmly between his teeth.

"I'm a grown man, Dan, I shouldn't have to ask for _anything_ like that!" The words came from gritted teeth as Don finally lifted his head to look at Danny dead in the eyes.

"Listen to me. Being a man has nothin' to do with this. Anybody who went through what you did would have a hard time sleepin' alone. There's no shame in askin' for help, Don. None." The conviction was strong in Danny's voice, although inside his heart was shattering all over again.

Alarms went off in Danny's head as Don's crying only increased at his words, pure rage radiating off the taller man's body in sharp electric waves.

"I'm sorry. I real-really am. I'm sick and disgustin' and I know that. I shouldn't force you to have to sleep like shit 'cause you have to share a bed with me. It's alright, Danny, I'll take the couch." Don began to get up, but Danny was quicker, his body effectively blocking any attempt Flack had at getting to a fully upright position.

"What the hell are you talkin' about, Flack? Sick? Disgustin'? Why would you even say that?"

" 'Cause it's the goddamn TRUTH, Messer! And now everyone knows that not only did I get beat up by a guy, but by my BOYFRIEND! Don't even try and tell me it's not sick, 'cause you'll have all of the NYPD to tell you differently."

"I don't care if you like guys, girls, or fuckin' ten-eyed aliens, Flack!! It's what's in here" Messer pointed directly at Don's heart "that matters to me! Christ! The last thing I'd ever say about you is that you're sick and disgustin'. You're my BEST FRIEND, Don. Nothing about how you live your life will make any difference to me, ever." His speech ended with an exhausted sigh; without another word, Danny motioned for Don to lie down, and without any hesitation, slid in next to his best friend and turned off the light.


	5. Silence

_**author's note**_ **This is probably the longest chapter thus far, but by no means the end of this story. Thank you to everyone who's been reading, reviewing, and adding this piece to your favorites! :)**

Don woke around six, instantly reaching for the pain medication on the nightstand, his hands shaking at the intensity of it. Once the pill had moved down his throat, he laid back down slowly, only to realize that the bed was empty.

"Damn it, Mess." He muttered, now too awake to even try and sleep.

Flack lay still for a good ten minutes, letting the medicine kick in, which thankfully it did quickly and efficiently. Just as he was feeling well enough to roll onto his good side and try to sleep a few more hours, he heard the faint sound of someone talking out in the living room. Brows furrowed, he pulled the covers aside and slipped his legs over the mattress. Moving slower than he would have liked, Flack finally found himself standing in the living room, shock freezing his face.

Danny lay on the couch, facing the TV, eyes firmly closed as he spoke in his sleep. Flack inched closer, straining to hear the nearly whispered words.

"I couldn't protect him…he needed me and I wasn't there…I love him, Stell… I love him and look what I let happen." The more Messer spoke the more upset he grew and Flack could see exactly when Danny's dreams took a turn for the worse by the way his fists clenched and his arms went straight at his side.

"Don't hurt him! Hit me! He did nothing wrong! Please—please! Don't hurt him!!"

Don gasped as he saw tears begin to stream from Danny's tightly closed eyes, his friend gasping for air, some invisible force holding him back from being able to reach whoever was being hurt in the nightmare.

As quick as it began, the nightmare seemed to end, Messer jolting awake with something akin to a sob, his eyes wild as he tried to gain his bearings. The instant he saw Flack, Danny began furiously wiping at his eyes, shame clearly written on his face.

"You okay?" He asked Don immediately, Messer getting to his feet and closing the distance between them with a hand to Flack's shoulder.

"I'm fine. Just had to take a piss." He lied, glad that Danny's bathroom wasn't adjoined to his bedroom.

The cold, raw fear in Danny's eyes wasn't missed by Flack, though he didn't hesitate to allow his friend to lead him back to bed, Messer mumbling something about him needing all the rest he could get. His painkillers finished taking effect, forcing Don's eyes to close mere moments after lying down, the medication not letting him ask the one question burning on his tongue.

_Who were you dreaming about?_

* * *

The next time his eyes opened was eleven, and thankfully this time the pain was nothing more than a dull ache in his side; not enough to keep him from getting out of bed and moving to the kitchen where the familiar sound of coffee brewing could be heard. Don paused in his steps for a moment, taking in the sight before him with refreshed eyes.

Danny faced the coffee pot, both hands heavy on the counter, his head hanging down, chin to chest; the position threw the muscles of his shoulders into stark relief, making it easy to see that Danny worked hard at his body. His sweat pants hung low on his hips and as he turned to grab mugs from the cupboard opposite the pot, Don got a good peak at the furrows that made their way down his hips and under the elastic of his pants; someone would have to be blind to not admire the picture.

His eyes caught Danny's as the man happened to glance through the aperture above the sink, blue meeting blue for a fleeting moment before both men glanced in different directions.

"How's the side?" Danny's voice was still sleep-coated, his head jerking upward in question before turning back to the coffee pot.

"Sore. Nothin' as bad as earlier this mornin' though. Drugs work wonders." Both men let small smirks colour their countenances as Danny poured coffee into both mugs, two sugars going into each one; it was a coincidence they'd noticed in one of their early cases together, and one Danny hadn't forgotten over the years he'd paid for or made coffee for his friend.

"Thanks, buddy." Don nodded, taking the steaming cup from Messer's hand and giving the coffee a tentative sip.

Silence befell the apartment and both men simply stood, mugs in hand, letting their own thoughts run unhindered through their minds. Neither dared glance at the other, the trepidation of seeing something—pain, fear, anger—in the other's eyes prohibiting them from doing so.

"You workin' today?" Don was the first to pipe up after taking a sip of his coffee, his eyes lifting to seek out Danny's as he waited for an answer.

"Nah. Mac gave me the week off on account of how I haven't slept so good the past couple days. Said something about not wanting me to botch processing evidence by falling asleep on it." The last part was a joke that was missed by neither cop, Flack giving Messer a warm smile to show he'd understood that his boss would never say something so off-the-cuff.

"I'm sorry." The words came after another bout of silence, causing Danny to look up from his coffee with a confused look.

"For what?"

"Keepin' you up like that. Adam told me you stayed with me the whole time. 'Refused to leave' is how he put it. If I could've—"

"Could've what, Don? Could've known that you were gonna get with a guy that was gonna use you as a punching bag? Could've stopped him from going ape-shit on you for any little thing he saw as a slight against him? Don, come on…"

"You didn't let me finish." Flack said with a slight frown, "If I could've known that you were gonna be your usual stubborn self and stick with me when something like this happen, I would've told Mac to bar you from my room so you'd at least be forced to get some sleep." Messer couldn't help the full smirk that lit his face or the chuckle that rose from his chest as he moved back to the pot for a second cup.

"So where'd you meet him, anyways?" Danny asked a little while later, both men sitting on the couch, the TV on low in front of them.

"Where else do people meet, Danno? At a bar. I was waiting for a friend who never showed, and he sat down next to me. We got to talkin' 'bout the Rangers and the rest is history." The frown on Flack's face wasn't missed by Danny, although he couldn't tell whether it was because Don didn't want to talk about it, or because he was berating himself for getting Seth angry with him again; there was only one way to find out, so Danny asked the next question that popped into his head.

"He treat you good? Before he started…ya know."

"Yeah, but he'd always had a temper. I figured he was like me and you, ya know? A bit rough around the edges. I never thought it'd come to…" Flack's words died on his lips, his eyes moving towards the window to try and keep the imminent tears at bay.

Seeing this, Danny slowly let his hand rest on his friend's neck, stroking at the short hair there gently, careful not to rub over the bruises Seth's hands had left on the skin.

"I feel so stupid. So weak, and dumb, and just—" Don took the last sip of his coffee, anger flashing clearly on his face before his left arm cocked back and threw the plain white mug against the wall. The sound caused Messer to jump, but the mug was the last thing on his mind as he felt Don curling up under his fingers.

"Hey, hey," His voice was soft as he turned on the couch to face the man who now sat bent at the waist, seething through tears that poured unhindered from slate-blue eyes.

"I'm sorry 'bout the mug…didn't mean it…I'm sorry…so angry…didn't mean it." Flack was babbling, self-hatred written in every crease of his face as he began to rock back and forth with the force of his sobs.

Messer bit his lip as he pulled the taller man into the best semblance of a hug he could given their positions, making sure that Don's head could rest on his shoulder as he simply let his friend cry.

"I deserved every beating; every single one." The words that echoed in Danny's ears were enough to make him want to throw his own mug, the severity of the abuse that Seth had inflicted on Don finally sinking in.

A cry of pain tore the two apart, Flack's eyes flashing fear as his good hand went to his side, putting pressure over the gauze with shaking fingers. When Messer managed to pry his hand away, both men's stomach's dropped at the sight of a growing puddle of blood soaking through the bandage.

* * *

"He just popped a couple of stitches. No sign that the internal bleeding's started up again, so it's just a matter of making sure he doesn't over exert himself for the next few days; give the skin some time to start meshing up again." Danny nodded erratically as Hawkes gave him Don's prognosis, his whole body still running on the adrenaline that had kicked in the moment he'd seen the blood.

"You don't look so good, Danny. You sure you don't want someone here to watch over him for a few hours while you get some sleep?" Hawkes asked softly, a concerned hand on his friend's shoulder as he spoke.

"I don't care about me, Doc. Just promise me that he's not gonna start bleedin' somewhere I can't see."

"I checked the incision before stitching him up again, Danny. There were no signs that the blood was coming from his injury. He's gonna be fine." Messer let out a shaky sigh of relief before showing Hawkes to the door, promising the former ME that he would try and get some sleep.

Don slept most of the day away, the anaesthetic Hawkes had given him knocking him out cold for a few hours; the silence left by the slumbering man was enough to drive Danny to the brink of insanity. He didn't want to turn on the TV for fear of waking Flack and every step he took seemed to carry the sound of some sort of creak, moan, or thud with it. Shaking his head, Messer moved to the window that led out to the fire escape, grabbing an ashtray on the way.

He hadn't smoked in years, but ever since learning what Don was going through, Danny had felt the urge to start up again. After hearing that he'd been placed in ICU, Danny had bummed his first smoke off one of the nurses who stood outside the hospital. Now, sitting outside on the ledge of the window, Danny lit up his fifth smoke in almost as many days.

Why had this happen? Why Flack? What did the guy ever do to deserve what he was being put through? Why didn't he have the guts to tell him exactly why he'd stayed, why he'd volunteered to watch over him, why his eyes filled with tears just from looking at his partner?

These questions plagued Danny, drowning out all noise coming from the street below, all the sights and colours, leaving nothing but his own voice and blue sky to fill his senses. There was no easy way to answer such queries and Danny didn't even try; just let the questions file one after another in a single file, each one pausing in his mind for a moment, as if waiting for Danny's answer.

A soft touch to his shoulder brought him jolting back to earth, Danny neck cracking as his head turned towards the source of the contact.

"When'd you start up again?" Flack's voice was lower than usual, the same tone it took on when he'd had one too many at Sullivan's. Messer simply shrugged, preferring not to divulge the timeline, or the cause for his picking up an old habit.

"Give me one." Flack's words came as a shock to Danny. He'd known Don a long time, and had never seen him smoke in all the years they'd worked together.

"You've never had one of these in ya life. Ya kiddin' me? I let you have one and you'll be popping more stitches when you start coughing yer lungs out."

"Just give me a damn cigarette, Mess." Don's face was deadpan, his left palm up and out, waiting for the white cylinder to be placed in his hand.

Rolling his eyes, Danny gave in, slipping one of the Marlboro's out of the pack and handing it to Don, who immediately perched it between his lips.

"Light?" Messer reached behind him, bringing the Zippo around and lighting the cigarette for Don.

"Thanks." Don nodded, taking a long drag off the smoke before pulling it from his lips.

The two sat quietly, Danny mildly surprised when Flack didn't cough a single time. Tension slowly drifted out of both men, neither of them minding the slight fall chill of October that moved through the city and past the window. At that moment, they were simply two friends, enjoying a smoke, and listening to the sounds of the street below them.


	6. Darkness

This one's rather short, but it's better than nothing. And there's a little surprise at the end that will turn the story. **Also, if anyone's looking for a great RP community revolving around CSI:NY, come join Five Boroughs on LJ (message me for the link)****!! Many characters still available!!**

* * *

Dinner that night was relatively uneventful. Danny, having decided that they both needed something that wasn't from a takeout menu, cooked them both steaks and baked potatoes. Both men ate silently, the food too good to be interrupted by conversation. Once both had cleaned their plates, Danny moved to preoccupy himself by cleaning the kitchen while Flack showered.

Just as the night before, Don needed help changing the dressing that covered the stitches. Again, Messer refused to look anywhere but the railroad tracks of black thread that held Don's pale skin together. The area was redder than it had been, but Danny chalked it up to the day's earlier ripping of the seams.

"You gave me a good scare this mornin'." Messer admitted as he cut the tape to the appropriate length, fastening it to both the gauze and skin with gentle pressing.

"Whoever sewed me up did a piss poor job. The stitches I had before never tore…" Don's words ended in a whisper as he saw Messer's eye close with something akin to grief.

"You okay, Mess?" The jerky nod he got was the least convincing lie he'd ever seen in his life. Danny's fib, combined with what he'd seen Messer try and hide ever since coming to his apartment, were enough to have Don wanting to scream at his partner. Instead, he took the softer approach.

"Danno, talk to me, buddy. You've been actin' like someone kicked a puppy ever since I got here. What's on your mind?"

Danny's sharp glance up at him made Don's breath catch in his throat. Were those _tears_ in his eyes? Flack pushed the thought to the far reaches of his mind, looking Messer in the eye and waiting patiently for an answer, no matter how brief and mangled it might be.

"I just—I feel like I didn't try hard enough, Flack. Feel like I should've tried to get you to talk about what was goin' on and I didn't. Like I should've stopped it before it got to where it got."

Before Flack could give any type of response, a bright crash of lightning flooded the room and took the apartment's electricity with it as it vanished back into the darkened sky.

"Fantastic." Both men said in unison, Danny chuckling at the occurrence.

"I'm gonna hit the shower before the hot water goes with the power. You took ya meds already?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Flashlight's in the drawer, right?"

"You got it." Danny nodded as he slowly made his way towards the bathroom, one hand along the wall so that he wouldn't walk into anything.

While waiting for his pain medication to kick in, Don grabbed for the flashlight, intending to help Messer out by lighting his way back to the room when he got out of the shower. Opening the drawer, he felt around until the familiar cylinder came into his touch; once the light was on, Flack couldn't help but look into the drawer it had come from.

It was a typical bedside drawer with the usual accessories; tissue box, pen and paper, cell phone, watch, a remote for the TV, condoms. The only exceptions were Messer's service pistol, badge, and a small leather bound notebook. Its banality made it stick out like a sore thumb and Don's brow furrowed in confusion as he pulled the book out from its spot.

Danny's handwriting filled the pages as Don skimmed through them, stopping on the last one with writing. He nearly felt like laughing as he realized that the book was Messer's journal. The last page written was dated the night before he was admitted to the hospital.

_October 12, 2008_

_Something's definitely wrong with Flack. The bruises alone could tell the whole story, if only he'd let someone take a look at him. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't noticed his behaviour changing over the last few months. As far as I know, his family's fine, and there's no one special in his life; at least not special enough to warrant such a change. I just wish he would talk to someone…anyone. When I tried to get him to yap today in the locker room, he actually seemed __**scared**__ of me. Me, a guy a head shorter and probably a few pounds lighter than him. I couldn't hurt him, even on my best day! Whatever's going on, it's scaring me, not to mention that today pretty much broke my heart. _

_Speaking of someone special…he still gets me, even after all these years working together. It's a shame I haven't got the balls to tell him how much he means to me. I love him, but there's no way he could ever love me. I'm scum next to him; he walks the line, like every outstanding cop should; I've never even seen him loose his cool, like Mac, Stell, and I have. He's everything I'm not; everything I wish I could be. There's no way in hell he'd ever go for a guy like me. Not to mention the fact that I'm pretty sure he doesn't bat for the other team. I love him so much and so help me God, I will do whatever is in my power to make sure he stays happy, healthy and alive for as long as possible. _

The sound of the shower turning off caused Flack to panic. In his rush to put the book back where he found it, he completely forgot his earlier intention of making Danny's way a bit brighter. Turning off the flashlight, he crawled under the covers, barely pulling off the towel that still hung around his hips and pretended to be sleeping.

By the time Danny made it into the bedroom, Flack actually _was_ asleep. Making sure to make as little noise as possible, Danny fished around his closet for a pair of boxers and slid them on, moving towards the bed in slow, steady steps. Once he was under the covers, Messer couldn't help but look over at the man sound asleep next to him.

Lips down turned, it was clear that Don had gone to sleep in pain. Sighing heavily, Danny forced himself not to look away, needing to somehow burn the image into his mind; needing to remember how the man he loved with all his heart looked when his world had been torn apart. It was a look Danny never wanted to see again.

Giving Flack one final glance, Messer blinked back the tears in his eyes as he whispered to the sleeping man.

"Goodnight, Don. I love you."


	7. Confession

The sun crept through the window the next morning, bleeding into Danny's eyes and slowly waking him. Turning away from the intrusion, he wasn't surprised to find Flack still deep asleep beside him; gotta love Naproxen.

What caused him to almost fall out of bed with surprise however, was the fact that Flack was stark naked. The covers had slipped during the night, exposing the taller detective's backside all the way down to the back of his knees and leaving Danny with an unabashed view of everything.

Taking a moment to calm his racing heart, Messer closed his eyes and remembered all that had happen in the last few weeks. Now was _definitely_ not the right time to be looking at Flack that way. Once he was sure that he could open his eyes without issue, Danny returned his gaze to Don, taking in for the first time, the deep bruising on the other man's back.

Sure, he'd seen glimpses of the foot impressions before, but never had he had the opportunity to look at the injuries in detail. Despite the amount of time that had gone by, the marks were still a sickening purple, indicating that not only was Don kicked hard, but he'd been kicked repeatedly—on several different occasions—in the same place. It was a wonder Seth hadn't made Don a paraplegic.

Fury seeped into every pore of Danny's body as he took in the bruises, wishing so badly that he could inflict the same kind of pain on Seth. Putting him behind bars was letting him off easy in Messer's opinion; if he had his way, Seth would be subjected to nothing short of what he did to Don, every day for the rest of his life.

Knowing that if he kept staring at Don's back he would become enraged beyond consolation, Danny got up and headed for the couch, but not before making sure that Don was covered up to his waist by the thin white sheets that lay pooled around his ankles.

His chest was heaving, and his teeth gnashing by the time Danny let himself fall onto the couch. It had been hell, these last few weeks. He wasn't sure how much more he could take, emotionally; how much grief he could repress, and how many more masks he had to wear around Don. He was getting tired of acting like what had happened had no affect on him. Acting like a hole hadn't opened up beneath his feet and swallowed him whole with the phone call from Stella. Like that hole hadn't begun to cave in when he saw Don lying in that sterile room, skin matching the sheets and body once again lifeless.

He'd been there before—and with Don no less—and here he was again, pretending like it was water off a duck's back and that Flack was Superman.

"Fuck." He murmured, dropping his head into his hands.

"FUCK!" Those same hands gripped roughly at the ends of his hair, pulling much too hard.

The tears burned his skin as they fell and instantly he was back in the ICU, back against the frigid wall, eyes fixed on a melting image of Flack lying on that god-forsaken bed. Only his hands and the carpet beneath his feet muffled the sobs that tore through his body. He had reached his breaking point. Nothing mattered now; not even who would walk in to find him this way.

It was Danny's cussing that woke Don, but it was the sickening sounds that followed the words that had him getting up and trying his damndest to put on his boxers. After much struggle, he managed to rake the material up where he wanted it, Flack knowing that his side would surely protest the movement in a few hours, but not caring as he ambled his way towards the source of the sound.

He knew Messer hadn't even heard him walk in, his friend's body crumpled on the floor in a heap of sobbing, shaking, bone and tissue. Clenching his jaw, Don moved tentatively towards Danny until he was sitting next to him on the floor, legs straight out in front of him next to the coffee table.

Pure pain; it was the only way to describe Messer in that moment. It radiated from him and crept into every crevice of the room. His breathing was ragged, too fast and shallow, too irregular to be doing him any good.

Placing his hand gingerly on Danny's shoulder, Don fought the urge to pull his partner into a tight hug; a surprised gasp escaped him however as Danny careened into his arms.

"I'm so-sorry!" The wail was inconsolable, Danny gripping Don's shirt tightly, afraid that if he let go, Don would disappear somewhere into the ether like Louie…like Aiden.

"You got nothin' to be sorry for, Danno. This wasn't your fault." Don soothed, his hand running up and down Messer's back in a show of comfort and support.

"I shoulda d-done more! I-I figured out w-what was going an-and I did NOTHING!"

He'd had no clue. Sure, Don knew that Danny had been upset by everything that had happened; the whole team had. Never had he known however, the extent of Danny's grief.

Messer continued to sob into the crook of Don's neck, his eyes squeezed shut, mouth a grotesque caricature of a smile.

"I thought I lost you!!" He whimpered, Don's shock increasing ten-fold at the statement.

"You-you're my best friend, D-Don and when I s-saw you lying there, I-I thought that was it!"

"What did I say when Louie go hurt?" Don asked, his own eyes burning with tears, "I said, 'we're not going anywhere."

"I know, but he hurt you so bad! He put you in the goddamn ICU for chrissake!" The seething anger had returned and sparing a glance at his eyes, Don could practically feel the fury rolling off Danny.

Slowly, Messer's sobs quieted, leaving him to stare up at Don with unshielded vulnerability. It was now or never.

"Don, there's something I have to tell you and I have to get it out or I'll never have the balls to say it again. I under if you don't feel the same and I know it's probably not the best time, but…I love you."

Don sat silently, his eyes never leaving Danny's the only movement being his tongue peeking out to wet suddenly too-dry lips.

"Danny, I—"

"I get it. I know, you just go tout of a really bad relationship. And I mean, why would you love a guy like me, anyways? I got nothin' to offer. I just-just had to tell you, Don. I knew it'd never come to anything, but I just thought you should know."

Messer was barely holding himself together as he stood on leaden legs and went to the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him. The sound of the radio filtered throughout the apartment and Don knew that Danny was using it to drown out the sound of his crying; knew because he did the same thing as a child.

Shaking his head, a small smile peeking from those same dry lips, Don slowly made his way to the closed door. The lock hadn't been pushed and Flack quietly made his way in, crawling into bed behind Danny and silently pulling the older man's sobbing form into his arms.


	8. Joy

**Author's note:**

**Thank you to everyone for your kind comments and for keeping up with this story. Here's the final chapter. Due to real life getting in the way of writing as much as I wanted, it took a while for me to work out how I wanted to end this one. Thank you for your patience. :) **

The sun burst through the window's pale curtains and Flack would've turned over and thrown his pillow over his head, were it not for the little hand that patted his arm gently but incessantly.

"Daddy. Wake up. Wake up, Daddy. It's Saturday." Her little voice already had tinges of the New York accent her parents were both owners of and as he turned to face his daughter, Don couldn't keep the smile off his face if he tried.

Daniella had inherited her parents blue eyes, but she had the same dark mop as her daddy. The tiny curls caught the sunlight, giving them a tinge of gold as the hand that had been on his arm now joined the other in patting the mattress in excitement.

Saturdays off were a given now, as he'd made it specifically clear to the Captain that he would not be part-time father, coming home only for dinner before shooting off to another case. Both of them had agreed to that before embarking on the journey of parenthood, and they both tried their hardest to be there for every play, every ballet practice and every 'Parents Day' at school.

As it was Saturday morning, that meant one thing and one thing only; cartoons. Running his hand gently over Daniella's hair, Flack brought her in close for a good morning kiss to the forehead, his daughter reciprocating happily by placing a big, loud, wet kiss to his cheek, which only served to broaden his already-growing smile.

Satisfied that she'd managed to wake at least one parent for their weekend morning ritual, Daniella ran off to go turn on the TV, the three year old already proficient in the world of gadgets thanks to numerous presents from her uncle, Adam.

Flack turned away from the light and towards the warm, sleeping body next to him, taking a moment to admire the love of his life. Though they'd each kept their own last names in daily life, Flack had officially changed his when they were married four years back.

"Stop starin', ya gonna burn a whole in my bald spot." Don laughed warmly at the comment, marveling in the fact that even after all these years, he still hadn't managed to quit staring.

"Mornin', babe." Flack said softly, leaning over the warm body to press kisses to the stubbled cheek, the exposed neck, and that faded tribal tattoo that took up a good portion of his love's shoulder.

The owner of the tattoo turned over, smiling softly despite his earlier grumbling. With a touch as gentle as it was firm, he cupped Flack's face in his hands and kissed him deeply, neither caring about matters as trivial as 'morning breath' as Don kissed back with as much love as he was given.

"You don't have a bald spot...yet." He whispered once they'd broken apart, Don pushing himself more into the other body to show he was only joking, taking his love into his arms and rolling them so Don was on his back.

"Yeah, yeah, and you weren't starin' either, I suppose."

"Can't help it, babe. You know that." The smile that met him was enough to keep Don going for at least another month, if not longer.

"Love you, Flack." Soft hands cradled his face again, and just before their lips met for a second time, Don managed to utter out,

"Love you too, Messer."


End file.
